4AM
by Lia Walker
Summary: There are some days he should've just stayed in bed, and today was one of them. Hurt!Sick!Dean, Angst!Sam, Angst!John. Weechester.


Title: **4AM **

**Author: **Lia Walker

**Characters: **Dean, Sam, John,

**Category: **Gen, Weechester, Humor, H/C, and a touch of angst

**Rating: **PG

**Spoilers: **None that I'm aware of.

**Summary: **His dad _had _to choose this Sunday morning for a hunt. With no immediate hunts, John decides it's time for his boys to move on to Wilderness Survival Training. It's really too bad for Dean who woke up sick that morning.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural or any of it's related characters. I simply own the plot to this little work of fiction.

**Author's Note: **I had to run two friends to the airport at 4 this morning and I feel like absolute crap so this is a little way to make myself feel better; torturing Dean. Also, this is my first story in writing as Dean POV so please forgive me if it comes out weird or awkward, I'm still working on little glitches.

**4AM**

"Rise and Shine boys!" My dad announces _way _to happily on a Sunday morning.

I lift my head out from under the pillow and glance at the bedside clock, it reads "4 AM."

I glance over my shoulder at my younger brother, he's only 8 but he's already up to my shoulders.

"I didn't think we had any hunts lined up for today dad?" I asked, my voice still muffled with sleep.

"Nope, no hunts today Dean. We've got some training strategies I worked up to practice today."

Doesn't that sound _awesome_? Training at 4AM, and to top it all off my throat is killing me. Not to mention it feels like someone tied ropes to my arms and legs then dragged them in all different directions.

I pull the pillow back over my head with a groan, "It's too early dad." I tell him, hoping for a reprieve.

"BOYS UP AN ATTEM NOW I AIN'T TELLING YA TWICE!" He booms.

Reprieve? No such luck.

Sasquatch lumbers out of bed, but not before he has time to flick on the annoying overhead light.

"You awake Dean?" he asked as he climbs off the bed, being sure to make as much noise as possible.

"Am now." I grumble as I sit up and try to rub the sleep from my eyes.

Dad is in the kitchen making coffee, I can hear him grumbling as he attempts to figure out where the coffee pot disappeared to.

Sam glances over at me. "You feeling okay Dean?" He asks.

"I feel fine Sammy." I assure him "Just tired."

"It's Sam." he reminds me before bounding off for the bathroom.

"Come on Sam! I called dibs last night!" I attempt to yell, but all that comes out is a hoarse squeak followed by series of painful coughs, which I'm able to hide by laying my face in the pillow.

"This is so not my day." I think aloud, glad for the temporary peace in the bedroom.

I showered after we returned from our hunt last night so I guess I'll just pass on the shower this morning, feels like I don't have the energy to stand for 5 minutes let alone a shower.

I groan as I stand, muscles protesting my every move.

In my duffle I find an old Marines T-Shirt and a pair of semi-clean jeans.

I slip my shirt on, then my jeans.

Ready for the day.

"Oh shit" I think aloud.

I _would _be ready for the day if it weren't for the fact that we're in Wisconsin and it's November. I'd freeze to death if I allow myself to be exposed to the elements like this.

I then pull on one of sasquatch's hoodies. "Much Warmer." I decide

By the time all is said and done, we've re-organized our room and packed up the Impala with the supplies we would need for today's training.

Since we'll be returning to the same motel tonight, dad tells me to hang the "To not be disturbed." Tag on the door, can't have one of the maids discovering our stash now can we?

It's quarter of 5 when we all load into the Impala, and Wisconsin is living up to it's reputation for early winters.

By the time I'm sitting shot-gun in the Impala I'm really considering telling dad how I feel.

I popped some Advil back in the motel but it doesn't seem to be working yet. I quickly push aside all thoughts of telling dad I feel ill.

He sees illness as a weakness, and on a day like today it's best to not tempt him.

Don't get me wrong, dad would never lay a hand on me or Sammy unless we were showing some _serious _disrespect. But he could make our lives a living hell if he felt like it.

I don't mean to, but I must've fallen asleep because when I wake up we're pulling into some national forest thing or another. The terrain changed from the smooth pavement to the rough rocks and gravel of the earth-made parking lot.

"What time is it?" I ask dad

"It's around 5." he tells me.

_Shit. _I can't believe I feel this much worse in a half hour.

The light that's beginning to peek over the treetops makes my head feel as though it's going to explode any minute. My throat feels as though someone is taking a handful of stake knives and repeatedly shoving them down my throat.

It's **bad **to say the least.

As dad parks the car, I glance around the lot and I'm not surprised to find that there are no other cars in sight.

I have the sudden urge to cough, and before I'm able to stop it, I cough lowly into the arm of my hoodie.

"Dean?" Dad asks from where he is now standing outside the Impala.

"I'm good." I assure him.

Sammy starts to say something, but I silence him with a glare. I am so _not _in the mood to deal with anyone today.

Dad tells me and Sammy how things are going to go today.

To sum it all up: lots of running, minimal climbing, stretching, and we should be back to the motel for noon.

I don't do too bad with the running dad has us do. It's fairly smooth terrain and by 7:30 both Sammy and I ready for the next portion of our training: climbing.

Sammy climbs the given tree with no hesitation or problems, his long gangly limbs matching the trees from branch to branch.

Once Sam is done, he and dad wait for me to complete my climb.

I make it to the mid-rise point successfully, but when I start the climb back down something happens.

I'm not exactly sure what happened after, but all I remember is I start coughing.

I at first try to hide it, but it doesn't take me long to realize my attempts are futile.

I try to focus on dad and Sammy below as they're calling to me, but they're voices are blending together as one, and I could've sworn that Sammy did not have two heads last time I checked.

Suddenly dizzy, I grab my head with both hands and try to focus on their faces.

That is a _really _dumb move considering I'm about 15 feet off of the ground.

The next think I know, both Sam and dad are hovering over me.

"Dean?" My dad asks, hesitantly.

"Dad?" I question, my voice coming out hoarse.

"Trying to fly kiddo?" dad jokes as he lightly brushes his fingers through my hair.

It takes me a minute to figure out my surroundings. As far as I can tell, I'm laying on dad's leather jacket on the floor of the forest.

I try to move to sit up-- bad idea.

Pain immediately flares through my ribs as well as my shoulder.

"Wht hppend?" I manage to ask through the pain.

"You took a fall kiddo." dad tells me "Dean why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

I look in my dads eyes, expecting him to be angry. But instead I see…Hurt?

"Didn't want you to be mad, dad." I told him

"Mad?" he asked.

"Dean you know if you don't feel good you gotta tell somebody. Do you honestly think I would've had you out here running if I'd known you didn't feel good?"

"No." I say suddenly feeling very ashamed

"Can I get up?" I ask dad, already knowing the answer.

"No way kiddo." Dad tells me.

"We don't know what kind of injuries we're dealing with right now." He continues

"So what I'm just gonna lay here?" I ask, incredulous.

"Till the chopper gets here you are."

"WHAT?" I ask "Dad it's just a cold!"

"Was just a cold Dean." Dad tells me. "I can feel the broken ribs, and that shoulder looks rough. I'm not taking any chances."

I must've fallen asleep after that, because when I wake up next I can smell the antiseptic and I can feel the breeze down south to know that I'm in a hospital.

When I open my eyes there is a man with his face less than two inches in front of me.

"Dude personal space?" I ask, as soon as I'm able.

The man steps back and smiles "Well, well, well Mr. Ackles." The man, I'm assuming he's the doctor tells me.

"That was some fall you took!" The Dr. Exclaims as he moves out of the way.

I can now see Sam and dad sleeping in chairs behind him

"What's the prognosis doc?" I ask him

He chuckles as he removes his stethoscope and starts to remove my top.

"Woah!" I exclaim "No offense dude, but you're really NOT my type." I assure him

Dad must've awoken at some point because I hear him a moment later "Dean let the man do his job."

I knowingly acquiesce and allow him to continue his ministrations.

"Well Mr. Ackles." the doctors begins "From the fall that was described you're lucky to be alive, let alone not seriously injured! You've suffered from 3 broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a minor concussion, and strep throat."

"Is that all?" I ask him, shocked to find that he doesn't think those injuries are serious.

He turns to my father, ignoring me. "If all goes well tonight Mr. Ackles, we'll have your son out of here first thing in the morning."

"Thanks doc." My dad tells the man as he shakes his hand.

He then moves his chair closer to my bed and sits next to me.

"So kiddo." he starts "Any thoughts about today?"

I groan as I turn on my side to answer him "I shouldn't have gotten out of bed."

~Finished.

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